


Recycling

by theleaveswant



Category: Farscape
Genre: Desert, Established Relationship, F/M, One of My Favorites, Stranded, Survival, Urine, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded in a barren desert, waiting for Moya to pick them up, Aeryn talks John into a radical method of conserving moisture</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recycling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts).



> for the fifth round of the Five Acts meme

“Crichton, wait.”

John froze in the act of unfastening his trousers to piss and looked cautiously around the uneven rock for any sign of danger or movement.

“We can't afford to waste water.”

“This isn't water, honey, it's piddle.”

Aeryn ignored him and continued speaking, eyes on the stake she was sharpening as much out of habit and because it looked cool as because she expected to have to use it. “We don't know how long it will be before Moya retrieves us, but Pilot's last estimate was that it would take at least six solar days to reach this planet safely. How long can your species survive without water?”

“Well—”

“I didn't see any water on the hike in here, so unless you spotted a spring or a river or a storage container and didn't think to mention it, we're stuck, alone so far as we know, with no access to fresh water, and we're already down to the dregs on the supply we packed in. Now remember, we've only got one working comms device, and this is the first spot on the surface we've found with low enough interference to communicate with Pilot even semi-reliably. That leaves us three choices, two of which are unwise to say the least.” She counted the choices off on her fingers with the flat of her blade. “We can leave together to search for water, with no way of knowing how far the nearest source is or in what direction, and lose our connection to the ship; one of us can stay here with the comms while the other goes looking for water with no way of communicating past shouting distance; or we can recycle our current moisture supply.”

“Recycle—you mean drink our own piss.”

Aeryn shrugged. “Or each other's. Sebacean liquid waste is completely sterile, barring the presence of certain pathogens with which I know I am not currently infected.”

“Human too, it's just . . . do we have to?”

“Do you have an alternative suggestion?”

“No.”

“Right, then, we should start collecting immediately, before any more water is lost to the rocks.”

She handed John an empty canteen. He looked at it forlornly, then sighed and lowered it to his fly.

Nothing happened.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, yeah? I don't want to drink my own pee.”

“I already offered to trade, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Why would that make me more comfortable?” John frowned over his shoulder at Aeryn, who shrugged.

“I don't pretend to understand how your mind works.”

John sighed again, shoulders dropping, and gave it another try. He grunted. “Nope, can't do it, not going to happen.” He resealed the canteen. “I mean, it's not like I've never peed in a bottle before, but somehow _knowing_ that you and I are going to drink out of that bottle is just . . . I'm also still kinda stuck on the part where you called this the 'wise' choice.”

“You agreed that it was. Besides which, you already drink recycled waste every day on Moya—the water we use there is a by-product of her metabolic processes, which are themselves fueled partly by the wastes of her passengers.”

“Yeah, but that's all filtered and stuff. It's not, y'know, fresh-squeezed.” He looked at her. “Can we rig a filtration system?”

“With what?”

“I don't know, spare shirts or something. Don't you have some kind of nifty Peacekeeper gadget for situations like this?”

“I didn't think to pack one, and shirts won't work. They'd be minimally effective and we'd lose too much moisture to evaporation.”

“Fine. If you're thirsty, though, you're going to have to fix it yourself or wait until I get desperate, because right now this hose has gone dry.” He climbed back down into the crater where they'd made camp, tossing the canteen to Aeryn as he did so.

“Would taking the bottle out of the equation help?” Aeryn asked, lowering herself to her padded knees in front of him.

John blinked at her mouth, her parted lips just centimetres away from his groin, then moaned and scrubbed his face. “No, Aeryn, pissing directly into your mouth will not 'help', God. I have to just get this over with; let me try the canteen again.”

John lined up his prick with the opening of the canteen, closed his eyes and took deep, relaxing breaths.

“Think about large bodies of water,” suggested Aeryn helpfully, “waterfalls and bursting dams. The sound of the surf.”

“Could you please turn around?” John muttered through clenched teeth. “And stop talking?”

Finally, by counting Mississippis and concentrating on the sibilants, John was able to coax himself into filling the canteen. He sighed with relief and handed the bottle back to Aeryn, then gagged when she immediately uncapped it and took a swig.

“You're not even going to let it cool down first?”

“Better fresh,” she said, swallowing. “In my experience—”

“You have experience?!”

“—the longer it sits, the more strongly it smells.”

“So many jokes about astronauts and Tang that I could make right now, and you wouldn't appreciate one of them.” He sighed and accepted the canteen back from her. He took a deep gulp, holding the liquid in his cheeks and sloshing it around dubiously.

“Not as bad as you thought it would be, is it?” Aeryn asked.

John made an equivocal gesture with his hand, then swallowed. “I still hope it rains soon.”


End file.
